Ceteris Paribus
by charlotteschaos
Summary: Sorted into Slytherin rather than Gryffindor, Harry embraces shades of grey and is the better for it.


Author's Notes: Written for the serpentinelion Fantasy Fest prompt: _43. Would it be too much to ask for an AU fic in which Harry and Draco are both Slytherins? The plot can proceed from there however the author likes, though if it's smut fic, please don't include anything too wild. Oh, and go as Slytherin!Harry as possible, please, while preferably keeping to his character,_ for regulusa. Hopefully this fits the bill. It turned out much more shippy than I'd thought it would, but it was rather fun to re-imagine the series from another viewpoint. Beginning part obviously swiped from the book, but quoted as a departure point.

--

_Harry gripped the edges of the stool and thought, "Not Slytherin, not Slytherin."_

_"Not Slytherin, eh?" said the small voice. "Are you sure? You could be great, you know, it's all here in your head, and Slytherin will help you on the way to greatness, no doubt about that – no?"_

"Wait..." Harry thought, his eyes opened and he looked down over the crowd. His first real friend, and yet... that's who he was already, wasn't it? Slytherin would help him on his way to greatness, and while he wasn't sure how that would happen, he wasn't entirely sure why hats could talk or how carriages flew or... half of what was going on. "I don't want to be evil."

"Greatness does not make you evil, neither does doing good mean that everything you do is good. What you do is your choice," the small voice cheerily insisted.

Slytherin. Dark wizards were in Slytherin. Draco Malfoy, perpetual prat was in Slytherin. Harry bucked up his courage and thought, "Whatever you think is best."

"SLYTHERIN!"

--

The Wizengamot had convened in the basement of the Ministry. Harry straightened his robes as best he could, pointedly not looking at Draco sitting in the defense. His trial was barely underway and damning evidence had been presented. The brief glance he'd caught of Draco's wasted face, gaunt and lacking the luster it usually held had sliced through the doubt.

His eyes had been vacant, his expression carefully neutral. As ever, his hood was up; his hair framed his face in gleaming white, a sharp contrast. It highlighted his ashen complexion and served as a beacon to angry witches and wizards who had lost loved ones. Draco's frosty gaze tended to quiet all but the most hysterical. He had yet to speak. Harry wondered if he even could.

"Harry Potter... for the... defense?" Sitting at the front of the Wizengamot, well distinguished amongst the mostly older witches and wizards sat Kingsley Shacklebolt, honored for his meritorious and life-saving strategies during the war.

Standing, Harry cleared his throat and nodded. He cast a glance to where Draco sat. Draco's head was up and turned towards him, but all he could see was the tip of his nose and a sliver of chin and lips. "Here."

He took the seat at the right of the Wizengamot, ready to testify. He swigged the Veritaserum even though both he and Kingsley knew that he of all people could bypass its effects. It was just sporting to do so.

"Childhood friendships aside, Mr Potter, you do realize that this is a murder and treason trial." Kingsley's voice was deep and rich, the question was not unexpected, but Harry held fast to his beliefs, even if Draco refused to meet his eyes.

"I understand," he said, his voice a little raspy. He was immediately brought a glass of water and he sipped, trying to decide where to start. Though the room was filled with people, he watched Draco, willing him to look up, but he did not.

"Begin when ready, then."

"At first, I thought he was horrid; possibly the worst person next to my cousin Dudley." Harry started at the laughter in the small room. It echoed off the walls, and though he knew it was meant to be jovial, the echoes had turned vicious, mocking. He could hear Draco's voice, _don't be a fool, Potter. No one wants a hero, they want a figurehead._

Harry shook it off, memories of Draco smirking at him, mocking him, a life-long friend comfortable enough to tell him off when he needed it. Maybe he needed telling off now, but Draco was silent and still refusing to tell him to stop being an idiot, his posture disapproving all the same. "He told me that my sort shouldn't have been allowed in Hogwarts-- at least until he figured out who I was. Then he offered to be my friend. I thought to avoid him when I was sorted into Slytherin; certainly there were older, smarter boys without an entourage of henchmen to do his bidding.

Perhaps it was Dumbledore's clever intervention to put us in a room together, maybe it was just absent-mindedness. He was thoroughly the vapid prat I'd thought him. At first I thought it a bit funny when the older students mocked him, but I suppose it's some sentimentality on my part, or maybe because he 'accidentally' left me his potions notes before an exam..."

Draco's hood shook at Harry's words, another subtle denial that he'd left those notes out on purpose. "For whatever reason, we found a purpose for one another early in our first year. Knowing that if Voldemort were to come back, he'd come for me, even though in principle it went against what he believed in, and against Snape's direct orders, he passed his suspicions about Quirrell on to Dumbledore."

The room murmured surprise, the details of that escapade had never really come to light. "That's well and good for you to say, Mr Potter, but Dumbledore could hardly verify such an allegation, and even if he could, that's ancient history."

Harry nodded and cleared his throat. "I'm not finished." He took another long draw of water from the glass. Draco still wasn't looking at him, if anything, his head was hanging lower. "The next year, we became Chasers for the house team..."

"We understand you were both close and good athletes."

Shooting a fierce glare at Kingsley, Harry continued, "He overheard his father talking about a Chamber of Secrets, and attempted to find out more, but between school and Quidditch, I'm afraid we forgot about it until Justin Finch-Fletchley and Hermione Granger were killed. Because of the great risk to him should his father or other Death Eaters find out, his involvement in the Chamber with me was kept quiet. But he was there. It was his burning spell that melted the Basilisk's eyes. I slew the beast and brought Ginny Weasley back to safety; But Draco-- Mr Malfoy saved my life."

"Again, Mr Potter, this is unproven and ancient history." Kingsley sat up and eyed Harry curiously. The rest of the Wizengamot appeared just as baffled, leaning in to listen.

"I am showing a pattern of behavior, showing that in spite of what he has done, he's not that criminal you think he is. He has reasons for what he does, and what he has done..."

"He murdered Albus Dumbledore, Mr Potter. In front of several witnesses, yourself included. As I recall, at the time you had sworn to hunt him down and kill him should you be the one to find him first," said Kingsley evenly.

"I know what I said." Harry reached a shaky hand to gather another sip of water. This was harder than he thought, and still Draco was leaving him hung out to dry. Not even a look of encouragement, not a quirk of brow or flash of smirk. _The world loves a martyr more than a hero, heroes can always cock things up later-- martyrs do their bit and get out. I'd make a crap martyr._ "I was upset."

"Because he betrayed you and killed your mentor. We've fought side-by-side Mr Potter. I know you credit Mr Malfoy with saving your life by tipping out off about the Department of Mysteries and the Triwizard Cup, and those deeds were worthy of your admiration, but murder is murder," Kingsley said.

"When we were of a certain age, we began to... experiment as boys in boarding schools will do. After the summer of our fourth year, we returned hormonal and a bit bawdier than before. Before that year, we'd ignored one another tossing off in the shower, but that year... after losing Sirius to Voldemort's blood ritual to return and Umbridge's oppressive reign over Hogwarts... we found some solace in... one another." Harry felt his face burning, but refused to give into being shy about it. This was who he was, and he wasn't ashamed of it anymore.

Kingsley cleared his throat, "That's... touching... but..."

"It started out so simply. Draco was lying on the bed, touching himself, working so hard and fast... his face red with effort, and I thought he might explode-- but nothing was happening. I think it was Goyle who said that he needed help. It seemed the most natural thing in the world to just reach over and stroke him, to kiss him. It was exhilarating, and yet almost as comfortable as touching myself.

"But it embarrassed him, and in turn, it embarrassed me. Even as we snuck off to touch each other, it was with the sense that we were breaking some sort of rule, some law was being violated. But in the moment... everything else just went away. The pain in my head, the dreams... all of it. It was then that Draco proposed the idea that I join the Death Eaters.

"I would have done anything to stay with him, and to be honest, having the death sentence revoked had its definite appeal. If I were to join, then I would be with him, and I would live. But also, I could work from the inside; find out how to kill him once and for all." Harry finished his water and inhaled slowly. The room was completely hushed but for a soft trill of breathing. All eyes were on him, some disgusted, some sympathetic. Everyone was watching him except Draco.

"It wasn't until sixth year that Dumbledore entrusted me with the knowledge of the Horcruxes. Whether he knew before and just kept it quiet until he thought I could deal with it or just figured out, I'll never know, but that seemed to seal the deal. If I became a Death Eater, Draco and I could work together like we had up till then. We could puzzle out where the Horcruxes were, and working from the inside, destroy Voldemort."

Finally Draco was looking at him, grey eyes pleading with him not to go on. Harry wished he could comply, but it wasn't who he was. He'd lived with this truth for as long as he could, and now it was time to let it go and let the chips fall where they may. Maybe it would save Draco's life, maybe it would damn them both, but Harry didn't care. He had to at least try.

"This plan was Slytherin in its brilliance, which is probably why Voldemort knew how to throw us for a loop. In order to prove to him that I truly wanted to be a Death Eater, I had to murder Dumbledore." The room gasped again and he heard the distant murmurs of disapproval, but all he could see was Draco holding his gaze, whispering _no _.

"I was prepared to do it. He was old and had made no bones about being ready to die. Draco argued with me constantly, saying that he could join without me, but I couldn't bear to think of us parted. There was no question that he had to join; his family would have been slaughtered if he'd refused.

"There was never any doubt that I would kill Voldemort. He killed my family and destroyed my life, but how I would go about it was suddenly a huge question. The one thing that had salvaged my existence, the one person who meant everything to me was going to join, so I was too. If that meant Dumbledore had to die, then the old man was going to die.

"Only Draco took that choice from me. To be honest, Dumbledore looked relieved when it happened. My wand was out and poised, ready to end him, but Draco was just that much faster, not tethered by admiration for Dumbledore, but a fierce determination to protect me. He loved me enough to sacrifice himself and yes, I was angry with him. I wanted to hunt him down, and maybe I was angry enough to kill, but not for the reasons you thought.

"Yes, Draco murdered Dumbledore, but he did it for me. He did it to protect me, this time from myself. Now it is my turn to sacrifice myself, my reputation, my hero status for him. I realize this does little to mitigate that he is a murderer, but he should either be spared, or I should be imprisoned with him."

--

In the lull of sated afterglow with gibbous moonlight stretching through the slats in waves like the refractions of sea light, Harry finally dared to move, sliding his fingers through the sleepy tendrils of Draco's platinum hair. They had come together in ways that boyish modesty hadn't allowed for before and still Harry was overwhelmed with the enormity of just having Draco back.

Draco stirred from his daze, stilted and aching, "I still can't believe they bought all of that sappy rubbish, 'He did it for me, it's not his fault.' Honestly."

Harry kissed the top of Draco's head. He still smelled musty and he'd lost some of his luster from his imprisonment, but to Harry, he was just as beautiful as he'd always been. Perhaps more so now that his elegance was tinged with suffering, "It's not so much that the Wizengamot bought that as I bought them. I'm afraid that doesn't leave us much to live on."

"Hence the shabby flat?" Draco rolled stiffly on top of Harry and looked down at him, his face a dark void behind the glinting brightness of moonlit hair.

"The company makes it tolerable." Harry glided his index finger along the side of Draco's face, gathering the hair between his fingers to slide it behind Draco's ear to reveal his features, sharper and brighter in dramatic shadow. "I couldn't let you rot there, not after you'd made such a noble sacrifice. That _is _why you did it, isn't it?"

Draco flashed his enigmatic smirk, both endearing as it was aggravating. What Harry wouldn't give to be a Legilimens when he looked that way. Before Harry could question him, Draco's soft mouth pressed to his-- painfully sweet and untamed like wild honey warmth tinged with the sharpness of teeth at his bottom lip.

_You're stupid when you think you have to be brave, Potter. You should've been in Gryffindor._

Maybe Draco was right and he was a fool for sacrificing his fortune for this, but as his hand slid down thousands of miles of silken skin, his mind arcing through the webs of time and tolerance, he could see nothing as important as this.

Besides, Draco had the Malfoy fortune coming to him.


End file.
